Living Again
by KJmom
Summary: Sequel to Lost Memories. Spike and Willow try to pull Angel out of his depression and finally face the other Scoobies with the truth of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

She'd been here two weeks. She'd popped back to her house a few times bringing things back slowly. She knew she was soon going to have to let Giles know she was no longer staying in Brazil, and that would mean explaining why she was in L.A. Spike was still adamant that no one else know that he was back. She knew now that it was more the fact that he hadn't yet told them that kept him from doing so now. She tried to tell him that the longer he waited the more pissed they'd be that he'd waited so long. But, as normal, he was stubborn as hell and wouldn't realize she was right until it was too late to make a difference.

She was excited to have everyone know so that she could stop hiding him and their new relationship. However, she was also nervous. What if he called Buffy and Dawn to let them know he was back and Buffy came running to collect what she thought was hers? Would Buffy be pissed that Willow was sharing his bed, his life? Or even worse, would he realize that he still loved the blonde slayer and leave _her_?

She told herself that would not happen. She reminded herself of the way he held her, the way he kissed her, the way he made love to her, the way he always seemed to be working around a lump in his throat when he said those three wonderful words. Most of the time it was enough to get her closer to excited and a little further away from worried. Not today though, because today she was going to tell him she had to let Giles know where she was. She was going to beg him to call and let them know what was going on, so that she could explain why she was here.

She was sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee, decaf of course, and waiting for him to come down the stairs. He was with Angel making sure the older vampire had his breakfast. If Spike didn't stay to make sure he ate, he wouldn't. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Angel since the first night in the hallway. She knew that he was aware of her continued presence. Spike was constantly reassuring her that Angel was no longer mad at her, but ashamed of himself, but that didn't make it any better.

Stupid, moody vampire. Ok, so he was ashamed of his behavior? Big darned deal. If he'd just show his dumb face she could tell him that she understood. She could really apologize for her part in causing his pain, and she could _hug_ him. Spike hugs were great, no - better than great, mind blowing. But Angel hugs? Well, they took her home. To Sunnydale, to times less complicated, to a life where she'd had all her friends within arm's reach and the only loss she'd experienced was Jesse's. Before the problems with magic, with Tara, before losing Tara, before she'd become a heartless murderer. Before Spike. Ok, so maybe everything hadn't been sunshine and roses.

But still, in the past couple weeks when she'd started missing her friends, when she'd been feeling particularly nostalgic she'd wanted to be able to see Angel. Maybe he wasn't who she really needed, but he was _something_ from that life. Someone who'd know her as the simple, unsullied girl she'd once been.

Xander. That's who she really missed. Sure she missed them all. Giles and his stuffy, British ways, but kind, loving eyes. Buffy who could sometimes be a little self-involved, but was always there when it mattered most. Dawn, with her little girl eyes marred with too much death and pain, but still shining with so much veracity and life. But, Xander? Xander was her lifeline, the other half of herself. It had been so long since she seen him. She wanted to bask in his love for her, his surety that she was the Willow she'd always been. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze until he popped. Maybe not literally till he 'popped', but pretty darn close.

But, she couldn't see any of them yet and Angel was still out of the question. So, it came down to convincing Spike to _finally_ bite the bullet. He knew they couldn't hide here forever, the place probably wouldn't hold out that long. They needed to find a more suitable place to live and the newly reestablished council could help with that. Ooooh, that was a good one. She could prey on his need to provide for her, protect her. And, of course his need for packaged blood, smokes, and the occasional bottle of whiskey. If they offered their services to the council, _Giles_, they could be added to the payroll. Then they'd have more than just Angel's meager stash and Willow's weekly pay to rely on. That was a good plan of attack, a little devious, but still, she'd learned from the best.

She leaned back in her chair, bringing the mug to her lips blowing gently on the steaming coffee-wanna-a-be before taking a sip. As the liquid slipped warmly down her throat she allowed her eyes to close and as was pretty typical recently, naked Spike danced behind her lids. Goddess she loved that man. Really, he was the only thing keeping her sane in this lonely, creaky hotel. Hotel? More like dungeon. She knew it couldn't be good for Angel to stay here. Sure it was familiar, it was where he'd spent his happiest days, but she knew from experience that without the people he loved to share it with, it just wasn't _home._

So item one on the to do list: Make Spike call Giles. Buffy, well that was up to him, but Giles was a must. Once that was done, then they could work on the other things. Things like getting Angel out of this asylum and bringing him back to the realm of the living, or not-so-living, or whatever. The most important thing being that he actually _look_ at her again. They could work up to the talking and hugging. But if he was going to be around, and she was thinking that was going to be the case, then they at least needed to be able to occupy the same room.

Cool hands were suddenly rubbing her shoulders and slipping down her arms pulling her out of the inner workings of her mind. A soft but still slightly seductive - it _was_ Spike after all, the man oozed sex even without trying - kiss to her neck caused her to hum happily. She tilted her head to meet his lips and was once again awed by the way he could turn her to jelly with just a few touches.

"Hey baby, how's Angel tonight?" In the two weeks she'd been here, she'd easily adapted their hours, or at least Spike's hours, because Angel seemed to spend _every_ hour in the bed.

"Same, least he ate though, without much prodding either, so better maybe? Not really sure, missed you." He kissed the top of her head and then moved to open the refrigerator and pull out a bag of blood for himself.

"You were gone ten minutes, Spike." She grinned at his pout and dutifully replied, "Missed you too." Which wasn't a lie, anytime he was out of her sight she missed him.

She heard the microwave ding and gave him a minute or two to get a little of his meal down. He was much easier to talk to when he wasn't hungry - or horny - unfortunately the latter was a constant.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"I've got to call Giles today."

"Ok."

"Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"You need to talk to him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Trying something a little different here, since there will be other characters that play bigger roles in this one, we're going to try other POV's on for size. So here's a little of Angel for your reading pleasure..........**

They'd all died, all because of him. He'd stood before them and practically told them it was the only way to go. And they'd followed like sheep to the slaughter, he was their leader, always had been, even when he'd handed the reins to Wesley, they'd still looked to him. He'd gotten them all killed. One he could have chalked up to a casualty of war. But _all_ of them? No, he'd should have known it was a suicide mission.

When he was feeling particularly honest, he'd admit that he_ had_ known. He known they were going to die, but he'd pressed on. The thing was, he hadn't expected _any_ of them to come out alive. They were the demon hunting version of suicide bombers. Take out the Circle of The Black Thorn, hit Wolfram and Hart where it hurt, and then greet the firing squad with a smile. Go out with a big bang.

That had been his plan. Then he'd watched his family fall, one by one, until everything good, everything _real_ in his life was gone. In the end it had just been Spike and himself, two of the most evil, despicable creatures to walk the earth and they'd _lived_. How? What kind of world did they live in? What kind of gods did they bow before that would allow Fred - beautiful, pure, kind, loving, _Fred_ - to be possessed by a hell god - her soul ripped from her body and cast aside to make room - then allow atrocities like Spike and himself walk away?

He no longer felt compelled to fight for a world where things like that happened. Not only did he not want to fight for this world, he didn't want to _exist_ in it. He'd thought at first it might be self-pity. Why fight so hard when what he wanted most was unattainable? Complete redemption that could only come by receiving his ultimate reward - Shanshu. But no, that hadn't been it, because he'd fought long and hard before he'd known that was what was awaiting him. Hell, he'd willing given it up just to kick Wolfram and Hart in the balls. A move he'd known wouldn't stop them, only stun them.

No, it wasn't because of that. It all came back to Fred. The others too, but none of them plagued his conscious quite like she did. Was it because she'd really been the first? No. Fred had held a part of his soul that no one else had been able to touch. He'd loved her. Never acted on it, never would have unless he'd actually managed to fulfill the prophecy. Too much danger in pursuing someone Angelus so deeply craved. He knew why the demon was drawn to her, it was for the same reasons he'd been so obsessed with breaking Drusilla. It was the innocence, the light that surrounded and filled her. Angelus had longed to corrupt that, to twist her. Angel had only wanted to be the kind of man worthy of her affections.

That's why he was here, in the bed. It was why he didn't leave his room anymore. Why he didn't concern himself with whether he'd eaten or bathed, wouldn't have even bothered with the blackout curtains if Spike hadn't drawn them the night they stumbled in broken and bleeding. No, _Spike_ had stumbled in but _Angel_ had been the one broken. Spike had carried him home, put him to bed and left a short while later to finish the mission.

Ever since that night Spike had been taking care of him. He made sure Angel ate and when things got a little ripe, he'd drag Angel out of bed and into the shower. The first time that had happened, Angel had just collapsed to the floor of the stall and sat there. When Spike saw he wasn't going to bother with actually bathing, Spike and stripped and stepped in to do it himself. Angel had been horrified to feel his body start to stir as Spike's fingers worked through the suds in his hair. Spike, though Angel was sure he'd noticed, had said nothing. He'd finished bathing him and then grabbed a towel for each of them.

When Angel finally emerged from the bathroom he was greeted with clean sheets and a nice view of Spike in nothing but a towel, beads of water still clinging to and running down his body. Once again he felt himself respond to the once beloved and then despised younger vampire. He'd eaten without argument that night if for no other reason than to get Spike out of his room, out of his _view._

Angel had bathed himself after that, but only when Spike declared it "time to wash off the mold". Then, just as he had the first night, he'd come out of the bathroom to find his bed changed and fresh smelling. He knew his reaction to Spike's nakedness had been basically a matter of proximity and long forgotten memories resurfacing. He wasn't so crazy as to think it was something he should pursue and honestly it wasn't anything he _wanted._

He and Spike had gone their separate ways years ago, had openly hated each other much longer than they'd loved each other. They hated each other more passionately than they'd loved as well. But when it came time to take on the law firm, he'd been happy to have the other vampire by his side, just like old times. He was still a little surprised that Spike was sticking around to coddle him, but he shouldn't be. Loyalty was something in which Spike had never lacked. He knew he should be grateful, any sane person would, but really, what he wanted was to be left alone. He wanted to wallow in his misery and waste away to nothing in this hotel. He wanted to turn to dust in the only place he'd ever felt at home. In the only place he'd ever been truly loved and fully accepted for what he was.

But, apparently that wasn't to be. Willow had moved in and if the way Spike smelled every time he walked in now was any indication, she wasn't leaving anytime soon. Though he'd scared her badly the first night she'd been here, he knew that wouldn't keep her away for too long. Soon she'd come and seek him out. She'd poke and prod until her all too clever brain discovered what was eating at him. Then she'd give him a dose of reality and probably have him up and out of this bed fighting the good fight all over again. He knew he needed to be rescued, knew he needed things put into perspective. He also knew she was the perfect person to do that for him.

If she didn't come looking before long, then he'd find her, just…………. not tonight. Not right now. But…….soon, very soon.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a very good thing that Spike's soul wasn't as flighty as Angel's had once been. Why? Simple. He was happy. No not just happy, he was perfectly _blissful._ But, really, even if he _could_ lose his soul it wouldn't make a difference. Unlike his psychotic counterpart, the soul didn't change who he was, it just burdened him with guilt. Though not nearly so much as Angel. He didn't feel guilty for the lives he'd taken. It was just the way things were, he was a predator and unfortunately humans were his prey. Darwinism at it's best - or worst if you happen to be the human part of the equation.

No, his guilt was more for the pain he'd caused, the unnecessary maiming and torturing. But still, he tried not to let that cripple him, after all, the demon had demanded the pain almost as much as the blood. Honestly, the demon _still_ craved the pain, the terror, the abandonment of morality, it was just easier to resist with the soul in place.

The soul had made all the difference to Buffy, suddenly he'd become someone to be trusted, someone worthy of loving touches and smiles. All that time he'd spent loving her, being there for her, basically her man-whore, and none of it had meant anything to her. Then he'd come back tortured, crazy, guilt ridden, and completely unstable and she'd taken him in and deemed him lovable or at least likable. Part of him hated her for that, but a larger part of him just pitied her. He knew that she'd always despise herself for the things she needed - the darkness and danger. She'd deny herself even the slightest taste and it would be her downfall. Not as a slayer, but as a _woman_.

That was the reason he hadn't yet told any of the rest of them that he was back. Buffy thought that he was deserving of her now and she also knew that he could give her that edge she needed. He'd be perfect for keeping up appearances and scratching that 'unwholesome' itch. If she decided to come after him it would upset Willow. He cared about Buffy, but he loved Willow. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause problems between them, but he would _not_ allow Buffy to come between Willow and him. Soul or not if Buffy so much as made Willow shed a single tear he'd be increasing his slayer kill count by one.

Then there was Angel. He was in a bad way right now. It was all Spike could do to keep the wanker alive. He fed him, made sure he didn't dust himself in the errant sunbeams that tried to make their way around the blackout curtains, going so far even as to _bathe_ the suicidal idiot. The night Willow showed up he'd thought they were making progress. He'd heard Angel crying before that, smelled the remnants of his tears, but that was his first actual break down. The first time Spike had been privy to the angst he lived in daily.

He'd tried to reach him then, tried to explain, to get him to understand that none of it had been solely his fault. And, he did seem a little better. He ate without being forced and he bathed himself willingly, though Spike was sure that had more to do with little Angel than any real desire to care for himself. He'd smelled and seen his grandsire's unintentional hard on the night he'd joined him in the shower. At first he'd thought that Angel would try to relive years gone by. However, he was pushed out of the shower shortly after rinsing Peaches' hair. That had also been the first night he'd eagerly drank his dinner.

Regardless of the reasons, he was sure Angel would be coming around soon, but a visit from any of those who'd refused assistance would _not_ be a good thing. Once the older vamp had time to see reason, to understand Giles reluctance and downright denial to add to the white hat folds in that particular battle, Spike was certain he would understand. It hadn't taken himself long to realize that adding anyone else to the battle that night would have meant more human blood on their hands. He really hated to admit it, but Giles had been right not to send them.

He was currently sitting in the chair across from Angel's bed waiting for the slow git to finish his blood. He couldn't wait to get back to Willow. She'd be in the kitchen by now having her unleaded coffee and waiting for him to join her. He'd have his own mug of sustenance and then maybe he could convince her to sit on the counter for him again. It was the perfect height for him to kneel or stand between her legs.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"What's really going on with Willow and you? Are you using her? Because I've got to tell you out of all the people I've known, she's the only one left that I would kill for even _with_ the soul anchored."

It wasn't a shock to him that Angel knew of his more recent……..activities with Red. Most of the time he didn't even shower before coming in here, but even if he did he knew Angel would still smell her all over him. What shocked him was that Angel sounded put together, coherent, a lot like the Angel he'd been before that dark alley. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

"'M not going to hurt her, at least not on purpose. Love her, don't I?" he rolled his eyes and shook his head. It pissed him off to no end that Angel thought himself the only demon capable of feeling and reveling in human emotion.

"Love's never really been your thing. Most of the time you end up hurting the ones you love most. You try, and I know you do, but Willow isn't the kind of girl you _try_ with. Willow is the kind of girl you love and cling to for the rest of your life - or hers as it may be."

"Don't waste your time trying to warn me off Willow, Angel. She loves me too and I'd rather be dust than hurt her. And for the record ya ponce, most times it's _me_ that ends up hurt, not the other way 'round. 'Sides, this isn't a new thing we've got going here." Angel looked genuinely puzzled, Spike prided himself on being the one to put that look on his face. Angel for all his faults wasn't usually confused by much of anything, and it took a helluva lot to surprise the old bastard.

"It isn't? I mean, I'm sure I would have noticed before now if you'd been……………"

"Not my story to tell, 's hers. Well, I guess it's partly mine but I can't bloody well tell you my part without telling hers as well and I'm not sure she's ready for that. Now, if you'd get on with it," he waved his hand toward the cooling mug of blood, "I've got a sexy little witch waiting for me."

Angel tilted the mug and downed it in three easy gulps. He held it out for Spike to take and scooted back down in the bed.

"Hey," He raised back up as Spike neared the door, "Got any clean sheets? Thought I might get a shower and I think I'd like to change the bed as well."

Spike's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't comment on the fact that Angel was considering showering and changing his bedding without being coerced.

"Sure, bring em up in a few."

"Could you send them up with Willow." At the look of rage forming on Spike's face, he quickly added, "Please? I need to apologize to her, and I'd like to do that in private." Please? Had he just said please?

"_Please_? I don't know what you're playin' at ya great pouf, but if memory serves, over a hundred years between us, and that may very well be the first time you've ever said please to me."

A chuckle, dark, dirty almost and against his will Spike felt a twitch deep in his groin. "Now come on, Spike. That's not exactly true. Was a time when 'please' was something we said to each other rather often. Of course there was less clothing involved………….."

Shell shocked, it took Spike a minute to find his voice. "Angel…………" Not sure what to say or how to say it he just shook his head.

"Sorry, sorry, don't know where that came from, shouldn't have said that. Just send Willow up? I really do need to apologize to her and I'd like to talk to her for a bit. Let her know I don't blame her."

"Tell ya what, you get a shower and _I'll_ bring up your clean clothes and sheets. If you wanna talk to Red, gonna have to come downstairs for it, yeah? If you manage to drag your broody arse to join us in the real world, you know, the one that exists outside this room? Then I'll give you the privacy you need to square things with Willow." With that he slipped out the door and hurried down to his little pixie.

She was sitting on a kitchen chair with her legs pulled up under her, hands wrapped tightly around a coffee mug looking for all the world like she was trying to soak as much of the eat into her hands as possible. Beautiful, just wondrous. She was wearing a dark green fuzzy robe and he was willing to bet nothing under it. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and a few tendrils had escaped to fall gently on the nape of her neck and her forehead. How she always managed to look like she belonged on the cover of a magazine he'd never know. She was the eighth wonder, or at least she always managed to keep him intrigued.

He couldn't stop himself from running his hands down her body, but he was a little hungry himself, so he just settled for rubbing her arms and leaning down to kiss her neck enjoying the slight tickle from the hairs curling there. She turned her head and caught his lips in a kiss, chaste by their standards, but still enough to have him contemplating the counters again.

"Hey baby, how's Angel tonight?" Same question as always, he knew she wanted to talk to him and he hoped the idiot would come to his senses and join them shortly, but no need to give _her_ false hope.

"Same, least he ate though, without much prodding either, so better maybe? Not really sure, missed you."

He laid a another kiss on the top of her head before going to fix his own meal. Needed to build his energy back up if he was going to………enjoy her on the various surfaces in the kitchen.

"You were gone ten minutes, Spike." Her tone was playful, so he gave her his patented pout accompanied by his famous puppy dog eyes and hid his smirk at her next words. "Missed you too."

He pulled his mug out of the microwave and set about polishing it off.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"I've got to call Giles today." She'd been saying that for days now, but she sounded serious this time.

"Ok."

"Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"You need to talk to him." And there it was, the one thing he'd hoped not to see regarding this subject, the resolve face. Bugger_._


	4. Chapter 4

He was finally done, now if he could just remember how to turn the bloody contraption _off._ He was sure there was a series of selections he should 'click' on to shut it down. But he just couldn't figure out where to start. He was lucky he'd remembered how to turn the blasted thing on. Then once it was on he couldn't figure out how to get to the 'works' or 'word' or whatever the soddin' hell it was. But lucky for him there was a tiny 'notepad' icon so he'd opted to use that instead.

He knew he'd never figure out how to get into, much less send an e-mail, so he'd typed up his correspondence on the screen that popped up and thankfully recalled that he had to click 'file' and 'save' before the bright red 'x'. Sure, he could have called Andrew in to help, but just the thought of yet again seeing that smug little grin was enough to put him off that idea. So he'd bumbled around the machine and the 'mouse' and forced himself to accept that written correspondence was a dying art.

Since they'd started to rebuild the council, with him at the head, he'd just been so _busy_. Willow had insisted on giving him lessons on how to use a computer, making a very valid point. He lived in a tech-happy world and it was high time he joined it. So far he'd mastered the art of double-clicking, but until today that was about it. _Bloody hell!_ How did this thing turn off?

He knew Willow would probably balk if she saw him do it, but Willow wasn't here was she? That little light on the power button was calling his name. Just begging him to press and have done with it.

_Come on G-man, you know you wanna stretch your back and legs. Just press me already._

He pressed the button. If his apparently now mushy brain was talking for his computer in the voice of one Xander Harris it was most certainly time to get away from his desk for a bit.

Speaking of Xander, or rather _thinking_ of Xander as it were, he should be arriving soon. Or at least sometime in the next 12 to 24 hours. He wasn't quite sure of the details, not for lack of trying, but the reality was Xander had been in the heart of Africa and was relying on a small plane pilot to get him out and to an international airport. According to his sources, which were pretty reliable, the man's wife had gone into labor directly before he was supposed to fly Xander out. Normally in Africa that wouldn't be enough to stop a man from earning a good day's pay, but Xander had insisted the man not miss the birth of his first born.

So, a few gears at the council had stopped turning. Slayers on hold and awaiting their guide. The world coming to a halt to wait on the birth of one child, and not even a prophesied birth at that. Ah, but he would have expected no less from the boy. His heart was in fact the reason Giles had given him this particular mission in the first place.

For some of the girls their destiny was a gift, for others a curse. Xander was the best of all of them to ease those girls into this existence. He, being purely human and quite likeable, was the embodiment of what they were called to protect. Add that with his uncanny ability to relate to people and he was the _only_ man for the job.

Giles poured himself a scotch and took a seat in the chair in front of the fireplace in his office. He kept telling himself he really needed to leave, go home and rest, but he liked being here. In his office, surrounded by his books, he felt more at home than he did in his actual home. He didn't even try to kid himself about the whys of that particular truth.

When his 'kids' came to visit, hardly ever all at once, but sometimes up to three at a time, this was where they spent most of their time. He was always here doing some kind of work or research and more often than not they were gathering information for their next mission or post. So yeah, this felt like home because this was where his 'hearts' gathered.

The phone ringing pulled him out of his rather depressing reminiscences. He checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly 10pm. It wasn't abnormal for the council to receive calls at this time of night, but his personal phone usually only rang this late if it was important.

He quickly sat his glass down, forgoing his typical hunt for a coaster, as always his heart rate picked up as he made his way to his desk to answer. He was assailed with worry over his young charges and hoping that none of them were in danger, hurt, or worse lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Rupert Giles speaking."

As the voice on the other end of the line drifted to him he was sure he'd finally gone 'round the bend. He must be completely barmy because the owner of that voice was dead, and dead voices didn't call you unless you were crazy.

"Oy, Watcher, how goes it?'


	5. Chapter 5

The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Rupert Giles. No, scratch that, the _last_ thing he wanted to do was talk to Buffy Summers. But, Willow would not be deterred or put off any longer. When his little pixie made up her mind, there was no changing it. She had even gone to extreme lengths to insure her success in the matter. Every time he got close enough to touch her, she'd smile, quite evilly, and suddenly be out of reach again.

"Oh come on Red, promise I'll call, no reason to hold out on me, is there? 'Sides, I thought you didn't take advantage of your new status as a favorite of your Goddess."

"I don't unless I have a really good reason. _This_ is a really good reason. Just call Giles baby, and I'm all yours."

The table was between them. He knew he could be over it and against her faster than the average human would be able to process. Unfortunately she wasn't an average human or even an average witch for that matter. She still wasn't as physically strong as he, but with her magic flowing as readily as it was today, she was quicker. He also knew that his physical strength was no match for her ethereal power. Not that he'd consider waging a battle like that to begin with, but it was still a little intimidating.

So, he had two options. He could give up and call Giles, get it over with and get on with the shagging. Or, he could enjoy the chase a little longer. He'd always been one for instant gratification, but on the other hand, if one played it right, the build up could be twice as fun. After all, he knew if he could just get his hands on her he could have her pleading in seconds. That was the reason she was staying one step ahead of him, constantly just beyond his grasp.

He looked up from his inner ponderings and seeing the naughty gleam in her eye, made his decision. A chase it was then. She seemed to sense his resolve, her eyes went wide for a brief moment before narrowing in a playful challenge. Then she was gone.

Before his senses could adjust, enabling him to focus on her heartbeat and locate her, he was startled by a breathy whisper directly in his ear.

"What are you waiting for, Spike? Aren't you coming to get me?"

The sound of her voice was still lingering in the air when he spun around to grab…….nothing. A sexy chuckle had his body responding in the most delicious ways. Her laughter seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

Two could play at that game. He may not have her magic, but he did have a few things in his arsenal: enhanced vampiric senses, years of experience, and a deep love of the hunt. He closed his eyes and tuned out everything but her. He concentrated on her scent, the blood flowing through her veins, the magic infused there, the heart that pumped it all through her body. Oh yeah he had her now.

He felt her fingertip run softly down his neck, but ignored the temptation to reach for her. He was a spider spinning his web, not chasing but simply waiting for her to come to him. A few more feather light touches that he also disregarded. Build up her confidence, let her think she had the upper hand, that was the plan, and he was going to stick to it.

Her touches were turning into teasing, drawn out caresses. He endured several of those before making his move. Her hands were moving up the middle of his chest when he finally acted. His patience and cunning paid off and she was trapped in his almost vice-like embrace. She only made one half-hearted attempt to escape before he caught her lips in a demanding kiss and they were falling into a moaning heap on the floor.

Several hours and multiple showers later they were laying in their bed completely shagged out. Well, she was completely knackered, he however, could go on all day. He was surprised when he glanced at the clock on the wall and realized they _had_ been going at it all day, it was damn near 2 o' clock. He was even more surprised to hear a gentle tapping at the door. He quickly checked to see that all Willow's private bits were properly covered before muttering a 'come in' that he knew Peaches would hear just fine.

"Angel!"

Willow raised up so quickly that she almost forgot to hold the sheet against her and Angel's eyes instinctively traveled south for the show. Spike saw the slight, but hurriedly disguised, disappointment on his face when, with a little help from her bedmate, she managed to keep everything concealed. For a brief moment his demon raged that another would try to take such liberties with _his_ witch, but he quickly stamped that down.

Willow was an attractive woman, to say the least. That, combined with the fact that Angel was probably very hard up at the moment and who could blame the bloke? As long as the pouf kept his hands to himself, Spike would keep his possessiveness contained, for now.

"So mate, decide to join the real world for a bit?"

"Um, yeah. I thought I might speak with Willow for a little while. I mean, if that's ok with her." Angel looked almost sheepish and rather like a young boy with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Sure, Angel. But…um…." She blushed a little and grinned. "Could you give us just a few minutes? I'd really rather be not so naked if we're going to talk. Oh, not that there is anything I'd like to _be_ naked for with you. N-not that you aren't appealing or anything, because _hello_ tall, dark, and handsome, but……"

Spike took pity on her after forcing himself to quickly forget the 'handsome' remark.

"I think what Red's trying to say is that we've been shagging all night and day so she's not exactly dressed to entertain company right now." He smirked internally at Willow's little eep and surged forward, "So, if you'll kindly remove your arse from the room, she'll get decent and join you in the lobby shortly. That cover it, luv?"

"Um, yeah, that'll do. Angel, take what he just said and disregard anything crude or rude and that's _exactly_ what I meant."

"O-okay, I'll just go then and wait for you downstairs." Angel closed the door and retreated down the hallway.

"Spike, you have the most unbelievable ability to take an uncomfortable situation and make it even more awkward."

"What? Like you're any better? Come on ducks, tall, dark, and handsome?"

"Ok, ok point made. I'm getting dressed. Then I'm going to call Giles and let him know what's going on. Then _you're_ going to explain everything thoroughly while I go see broody."

While she gathered and slipped into her clothes he took a moment to laugh quietly to himself. _'Broody'_ Sometimes he felt like she was channeling Harris. It was amazing to him how two people could be so incredibly different and so completely alike at the same time.

"Ok, luv. I'll talk to the watcher on one condition."

"Oh? What's that? Wait, who said we were negotiating in the first place?"

"I did." That earned him a teasing glare and he hastily added, "Please?"

"Whatever it is it can't be good if you're willing to ask nicely, so I think I'm going to regret this."

"Let me call him, give 'im a little start. It'll be great, too bad I won't be able to see his face though." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "Though maybe I could call the junior watcher, get him to snap a quick photo for me."

"No, Spike. You might just give him a heart attack, I need to explain things a little first, ease him into it."

"Oh piffle! He made it through raising you lot didn't he? On a bloody hell mouth even. I think he can handle one little call from a phantom."

He was expecting at least a little more resistance from her and was very pleased when she gave in so easily.

"Fine, but only because Angel's waiting for me. Take it easy on him will you?"

She handed him a slip of paper with a phone number on it. She kissed him on the forehead and looked back at him as she opened the door.

"What am I going to do with you?"

He gave her a cheeky grin, "Shag me silly and love me unconditionally?"

She smiled back and whispered, "Always" as she closed the door.

**Sorry this is taking so long. In my defense, Lost Memories was creeping around my brain months before I even started on it and look how long that took. With this one I'm just flying by the seat of my pants. I have no idea where this is going or how much plot will actually be there, so if you have any ideas or requests, bring 'em on. As always reviews are more than welcome!**


	6. Chapter 6

What was taking so long? He was pacing back and forth in front of the stairs, stopping every couple passes to glare up the staircase as if he could make Willow suddenly appear. So far it wasn't working too well for him. Surely it couldn't take that long to get dressed. Or, what if she wasn't getting dressed at all. What if she and Spike had decided to go another round before she came down?

He sometimes forgot he was a vampire. No that wasn't really accurate, he never forgot what he was, he just sometimes banished that truth to the far reaches of his mind and focused more on his human qualities than his supernatural ones. Either way, he suddenly realized that if he wanted to know what was going on up there, he could. As if the mere thought of eavesdropping had reminded his ears of their abilities, he could just make out the hurried words being exchanged upstairs.

He felt like an intruder but waved that notion away and pushed a little further and locked in on the people above him instead of just the room. He could hear someone, presumably Willow, moving about and was only slightly embarrassed that he could hear the slide of denim against her legs as she pulled up her pants. He had, after all, just gotten a very nice view of almost _all_ her lovely assets. He shook his head to clear it of that particularly distracting thought and tried to zone in on the words drifting down to him.

They were discussing calling someone, and since that someone was a 'he' and it was a phone call that Spike was going to make, that could only mean one person - Giles. Just great. The thing he needed most, the glorified ex-watcher turned head councilman showing up here. He waited for the ever-present anger to take over and found that it wasn't so easy to drum up this time.

Sure, Giles had refused assistance, and there was the slight possibility that it might have cost him the lives of his friends. However, there was an even bigger possibility that it might have actually saved the lives of a few of them as well. Though he'd tried to deny it at first, he knew that if Willow, Buffy, or, god-forbid, Xander had been there the body count would only have risen to include not only them, but most of the slayers they brought with them.

For once he felt as if he were looking at things through clear eyes again. He missed them, mourned them, wished like hell he'd never led them on his fool's errand, but none of that was Giles' fault. The man had only been looking out for his own. It's not as if Angel had requested his assistance with an inescapable apocalypse. _He'd_ started the war with an evil law firm that literally had every beast from every dimension of hell on it's side. He'd known from the beginning that they couldn't even hope to take them out. It was just a sucker punch.

How could he have expected Giles to risk the lives of what were basically his children so that Angel could play what amounted to childish games when compared to the daily battle of good vs. evil? He couldn't have, he shouldn't have, and quite frankly he was feeling a little pissed at himself for his recent thoughts about the man who'd been almost a father to his first love.

Willow. God, he'd attacked _Willow_. How could he have blamed her for any of it? Yeah, she was a damned powerful witch. He had no doubt about that, he quite literally owed her his soul, twice over. But even she would have been no match for the monstrosities that Wolfram and Hart rained down on them that night.

"Goddess, Angel. Do you _ever_ stop brooding?"

He'd stopped pacing at some point and was sitting on the couch in the lounge with his head almost between his knees. For once he wasn't being weighed down entirely with grief over what he'd lost, but instead was distraught over what he'd almost thrown away. He jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't even realized that he'd stopped listening to them and she'd been able to sneak up on him. Honestly, what kind of vampire was he that a living, breathing, flesh and _blood_ human could startle him?

"Willow….. I…." He couldn't seem to get the words out around the lump in his throat, could hardly even make out her form through the haze of tears filling his eyes.

_I'm sorry_.

And that was only two words. Not nearly enough to make amends. Not even a fraction of the things he wanted to say. But somehow, as she was usually able to do, Willow heard everything he didn't say, heard every word his tortured soul screamed out to her and he found himself enveloped in her forgiving embrace.

"Oh sweetie, it's okay…shhhhh. It's fine. It's gonna be okay." She was holding him up, cradling his head against her chest and running her fingers soothingly through his now disheveled hair. He was sure he was getting tears all over her shirt, but she didn't seem to mind, she just held him closer.

He was trying to get a grip on himself, trying to calm down enough to actually articulate the words he needed to say, but it seemed his emotions had other plans and he felt her gently lowering them to the floor as his whole body started to shake with the force of his sobs.

"Oh Angel, I'm sorry. So sorry. I should have been there. I could have helped, and I swear to you if I'd known, _nothing_ would have kept me away." Hearing those words, the ones he himself needed so badly to offer, sobered him enough to realize she was crying as well. In a matter of seconds, he reversed their positions and pulled her into a tight hug.

"No, Willow. You listen to me. No matter _what_ you could have done, even if you might have prevented one or _all_ of their deaths, it wasn't your place. It wasn't your battle to fight. I caused it all. I chose my path and I took them all with me." He tangled his hands in her hair and used the leverage to pulled her face up to meet his eyes. Their foreheads and noses were pressed tightly together and he stared intently into her tear streaked face and didn't bother to concern himself with the fact that his was probably worse.

"_I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry for blaming you, all of you. I'm sorry for getting angry with Giles for not sending in the cavalry. And I'm sorry for my behavior the first night you were here. But, what I regret more than all that is ignoring you for the past couple weeks. I'm so glad you're here Willow." With that he placed a gentle and innocent kiss on her lips.

"Oh Goddess, Broodypants. Couldn't you have at least waited until I didn't look like shit before you kissed me?" She laughed and pulled away from him and wiped her face on her sleeve.

"If we're going to make a habit out of this, we're really going to need to get some tissues."

He chuckled and pulled her into a less desperate hug and kissed her again, this time on the top of her head.

"So, you and Spike, huh? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean you do realize he's a pompous ass, right? The stories I could tell you…"

"Ok, I'm going to pass on the stories because I have a feeling that more than a little bloodshed would be involved, but yes, Spike and I are together. And yes, I realize he can be rather difficult at times, but I love him." She smiled the most beautiful smile when she said the last and shrugged her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And for the first time since learning of her involvement with the younger vampire he thought it might not be such a bad thing after all.

**A/N: Once again, let me apologize for taking so long to update, but I promise I'm writing this as fast as it's coming to me. I'm thinking next up will finally be the conversation between Giles and Spike, but that's going to be difficult to get just right, so don't expect it too quickly. Thanks so much for your reviews, it really makes my day to see that someone has taken the time to let me know what they think. It's also great to find out that someone has favorited (lol, that's so not a word) one of my stories or requested alerts. It lets me know I'm not just wasting my time and that someone's actually reading this. But for those of you who might just linger around to read, I appreciate you as well, even if I don't know who you are. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is I got love for all of ya :)**

**OH, and who is as excited as I am that LOGO is airing the show again? I've seen them all of course and have all the seasons on DVD, but for some reasonI stil can't help but to tune in when it's on!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Wow, has it really been over a year? So sorry about that. I'm back for a while though, and I've just recently found the motivation to work on this again. I've missed the Buffyverse so much and I'm glad to be back for a bit. So here's the next chapter and I'll be working on another one very soon, if anyone is still interested!**

"Oy Watcher, how goes it?"

For a moment Giles forgot how to speak. He might have thought it was a prank, but he knew that voice, would have no trouble discerning it's owner even if it had been fifty years since he'd heard it. Still, his reply came out in the form of a question.

"Spike?"

"In the flesh, how may other badass British vamps you know?"

"None"

"Exactly, one of a kind mate."

"But…..but…. How? Are you alive?"

"Alive? Now that's a tricky question. Let's just say I'm undead, yet again."

"Buffy saw you in flames, Spike. There was a crater. As resourceful as you are, even you couldn't have survived that."

"Some mojo in the amulet, can we just go with the condensed version?"

"I'd rather have a full account of everything that occurred, Spike."

"I promise that you'll get to fill your diaries with the epic tale of the vamp who just wouldn't stay dead, but for now, let's just say I spent some time haunting the halls of Wolfram and Hart before becoming a real boy again. Now that things here are under control, I'm looking for employment. I'd also like to see the Bit, possibly even talk to Andrew again, and if he's around, I'd even consider sparring with Droopy. Only because it's been a while since I've been able to beat him really good."

Giles was itching for the full story, but he knew he'd be hard pressed to drag it out of Spike over the phone. He was reluctant to ask Spike to come see him, he didn't know how Buffy would react, and it was obvious that Spike had left her name out purposely. The vampire was probably hoping to awe her with his reappearance. He could just see Spike using the fallen hero bit to worm his way back into the poor girl's heart.

"Spike, Buffy needs to know you're back, but I won't allow you to just pop back into her life without warning. It took a great deal of time on her part to get over your death. I can't imagine that seeing you without warning would be easy for her."

"Who said anything about me seeing Buffy?"

"Oh come off it, Spike. I'm aware of your infatuation, and while I was against it at first, you have certainly proven yourself. I'm not saying you can't see her, just that it would be easier if someone else broke the news to her first."

"Rupert, was a time that I loved her very much. Suppose I still love her, just not like I used to think I did. Actually I was hoping for someone else to talk to her. Thought you or Red might do that for me."

"Oh, poor Willow. I can't believe I'd forgotten."

"What about her?"

"Willow found it rather difficult to deal with your death as well. She tried so hard to hide it, and honestly if it hadn't been for the late night calls from Kennedy, I would've never known. She used to have horrible nightmares about you. It was so hard on her losing Tara, then we lost so many in that last battle… We knew going in that not all of us would survive, but losing you… Well, we just never expected that you would be one we'd leave behind."

The first call Giles got from Kennedy had upset him greatly. Kennedy had been hysterical. She'd been certain that there had been more than reluctant friendship between her lover and the vampire. Apparently Willow had been muttering some rather questionable nonsense before screaming for Spike. He'd reasoned with himself and the young girl, explaining the losses the poor witch had suffered over the years, the bonds that had been formed over midnight research, vampire dust, and demon gore. He'd explained how one cannot control the nature of one's dreams, and how dreams are often abstract views on one's life and relationships. Willow had cared for Spike, truly they all had in one way or another, but there had been nothing but tentative friendship between them. He still wasn't sure Kennedy had been convinced.

"The Slayer did. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, feel it every time she touched me after handing me that godforsaken pendant. She knew I wasn't coming out, so did I, I guess. I can't fault her for that, did what we had to, and that's ok. I don't want to make life harder on her. She's a good woman and if I could get by with never telling her, I would, but considering the circumstances, I just don't think that's a viable option."

"What circumstances, Spike? I wouldn't be opposed to placing you within employment of the Council and doing it in a discrete manner. I hate to keep things from her, but maybe this would be best kept between us."

"Don't think that's going to cut it, mate."

Giles started to ask Spike to explain, yet again, when the line was suddenly muffled. He could hear voices, but not make out words, one of those voices was Spike, the other was decidedly female. The conversation lasted only a few moments before he heard rustling indicative of the phone being passed to someone else.

"Hey, Giles. How are you?"

He couldn't believe it. He'd expected… Well, anyone aside from her really.

"Willow."

"Hey, Giles. Surprise?" Indeed it was.

"What are you doing with Spike, Willow?" He couldn't help but think that her answer had better be good and confirm none of the suspicions he was starting to have.

"Staying here with him to help out with Angel?" She was nervous, she always answered in questions when she was.

"Are you testing that answer for credibility? Or, are you informing me that Angel and Spike required your assistance?"

"Ok, look, Giles, I thought Spike and Angel needed my help. Andrew said there was some big, bad mojo going on in L.A., mojo that _you_ wouldn't help them with. So, as soon as I knew I was needed and that Spike was _alive_, I beamed here as quick as I could. Turns out it was all over and pretty much everyone is _dead_. You could have stopped that, _by the way._ Or I could have if you'd just told me about it. Anyway, Angel was quite distraught over losing his friends and Spike needed help taking care of him, so here I am. Well, there's more to it than that, of course, but you'll have to wait to get the full story, I don't want to tell you before everyone else. I figure everyone will want to see Spike, so I thought we could arrange a Scooby reunion, how long has it been since we were all together?"

She really did have a knack for babbling. Giles got caught up in her story but was nicely redirected and diverted at the end.

"Well, I suppose it has been a while since any of us have taken a sabbatical…"

"Yeah, and even longer since we all took one together. Why don't we round everybody up for a trip to L.A.?"

"I think we could do that, but I'll need a promise from each of you for full disclosure once I'm there. Can you promise me that?"

"Absolutely, Giles. You get in touch with everyone but Buffy. Let me call her, ok?" He didn't have any qualms about agreeing to that.

"Most certainly. I'll talk to you in a couple days," He knew it was coming, he still had difficulty saying it first, but since Sunnydale, he never passed up an opportunity to respond.

"I love you, Giles."

"I love you too, Willow. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

He gently cradled the phone and allowed himself a moment to imagine having all his children surrounding him again. Yes, a vacation sounded perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A HUGE thanks to shaken-silence for the beta on this. She offered over a year ago and I lost myself on it for a while, I'm sooo glad she was still willing and available. Your suggestions made this soooo much better than it would have been otherwise! I was kinda happy with it before, but now I'm thrilled with it! You are fantastic!**

Willow laid the phone down and smiled at Spike. She wished he'd done this sooner, but she was extremely proud of him either way. She knew he was nervous about it all, even if he wouldn't admit it. Heck, she was nervous too, but it had to be done.

"That was great, baby." He was reclined on the bed so she made herself comfortable beside him and pillowed her head on his chest. She loved the feel of the ruby red silk sheets sliding against her skin. She'd tried to argue that flannel was absolutely fine, but in the end, he'd won. Really, how could she contend with his logic when he'd said she deserved the best? Not that she believed it, but he did.

"He was surprised, that's for sure. I really should have called Andrew and had him take that picture for me." He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"It's going to be okay, Spike. You'll see." Or at least she hoped it would. Now that she knew for sure that they would all be together shortly - that _Buffy_ would be here - she was getting more anxious.

"Yeah? Pop into the future to find out, did ya?" She saw his eyes go wide with that 'I-have-a-plan-that's-not-so-good-and-will-fail-miserably' look and nipped it before it could become fully formed.

"Absolutely not, mister. We will face this like normal people. We just have to be strong and stand our ground." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Her eyes fell on their bright yellow walls. She remembered walking in and finding him elbow deep in yellow paint and sporting a sheepish grin. She'd said the room was too dark and dreary only the night before. Now she woke up every day to blindingly sunny walls, and that was ok too. It was nice, actually. So what if it didn't match the five sets of red sheets they'd bought? He did it for her, just because of a small, almost-forgotten complaint.

She let her eyes drift up to the ceiling and sighed at the slight sag that reminded her that, regardless of their efforts to fix the room up, the hotel was still a danger zone. They really needed to get out of here before the place was condemned, or worse. She really didn't fancy the idea of waking up with a ceiling laying on them. She allowed herself a tiny inner laugh at her use of the word 'fancy' in that context. She was starting to think in Spike-speak.

"That's easy for you to say, pet. They aren't going to hang you out to greet the sun."

"Ah, they wouldn't do that to you either." Then she broke an unspoken rule - one that had been in place since she'd started badgering him to call - she spoke _her_ name directly to him, "Buffy still has Mr. Pointy…"

He went very still for a split second, and then resumed breathing - something she was sure he only did to put her at ease. She wanted to tell him that it didn't bother her - the fact that he didn't need to breathe - but she kind of liked that he would do something like that for her.

"Willow…"

"I'm sorry, Spike, I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's fine, ducks. I was just going to say that you don't have to avoid talking about her because of me. She's your friend, you love her. Hell, I love her. We _can_ talk about her. Probably should, yeah? She'll be here soon." She relaxed, but she was still not sure how this conversation would go.

"Yeah, I just…" Spike sat her up and turned to face her. He hunkered down so they were face to face and tilted her chin up when she tried to look down.

"You just what, love? You're not… Red, aren't you excited to see her? How long's it been? Close to a year, right?"

"Ten months." Ten long and lonely months, at least until she'd moved in with him.

"See? You want to spend some time with her, do your hair, paint your nails, whatever it is all you young chits do when you get together. Ooooh, have a sleepover and talk about boys!' He clapped his hands in a bad imitation of a teenage girl. It would have been funny if not for the seriousness of the situation.

"Spike, I don't think Buffy is going to want to talk about boys with me, or paint nails or…or…do our hair. I think…I don't know if- if she's ever going to _talk_ to me again, and what if…Spike…" She was in full panic mode and couldn't catch her breath. She was crying and thought she really could use some tissues. She'd have to remember to get some before the teary reunion that would happen soon.

"Red? She'll understand; you'll work it out. C'mere." She wanted to collapse into him and let him tell her pretty lies about everything working out and being all hunky-dory, but she couldn't. She pulled away and clasped his hands instead.

"What if," She took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully while trying to gather the nerve to ask the question she needed to ask, "What if you _see_ her and she sees _you,_ and you feel _things,_ and some crappy love song starts playing out of nowhere, and everything starts moving in slow motion, and you run across a field of flowers and fall into each other's arms, and-" She was gesturing wildly, hyperventilating, and sobbing so much that it was hard for her to make out her own words. He cut her off and pulled her into him with a determination that wouldn't be denied.

"Willow, calm down, listen to me, ok?" She sniffled loudly several times before shakily nodding her head.

"That is _not_ going to happen. I told you, I stopped loving her like that a _long_ time ago. You are the _only_ woman for me, pet. I don't know how she's going to take this, but I'll _make_ her understand it if I have to. I had to lose you once, I will _not_ let that happen again. I'll tell the lot of them to bugger off if it comes to that." He was rocking her gently and running his fingers through her hair, "I love you, Willow, nothing is going to change that."

"I know you do, but Buffy is… well, _Buffy_." She wasn't crying anymore, but she still didn't feel secure.

"Yeah, but she isn't _you_. That's what you need to understand. I want _you_." He didn't leave her room to argue.

He lowered her to the bed and kissed her softly but urgently. He made love to her slowly and gently, but more passionately than she could ever remember him doing before. He showed her how much he loved her as he whispered it like a chant in her ear. Willow knew magic, and while it might not have been the kind she found in spell books, or the kind that flowed through her veins, it was magic in its own right.

She allowed herself to enjoy the afterglow for a while. She relished the feel of his hands lazily stroking her hair and back. She made herself focus intently on every point their bodies touched. Their legs were intertwined, her chest was pressed to his stomach, her arm wrapped around his waist, and her head rested against his chest.

She loved the fact that his heart didn't beat. She found such peace listening to the sounds of nothingness that came from his body in those rare moments that he just relaxed. He was dead, but he wasn't gone. 'Dead' just meant 'that much harder to kill,' 'that much harder to take from her.' Except, she was still scared that Buffy would be able to do just that, take him away, force her to give up _this_.

"You're thinking again, love. Do you ever stop that rubbish?" She loved the way his voice rumbled so loudly against her ear. She couldn't decide if she preferred the quite of unmoving organs, or the growl of his voice radiating out from his body directly into her ear.

"Everybody thinks, Spike. You can't help it. If it's not just jumbled incoherent thoughts, then it's-"

"A field of flowers springing up suddenly in the middle of a hotel? Really, pet? Flowers, love songs, and slow motion?"

"Hey, if there is a demon that can make us all start singing our heart's deepest desires and worst fears, then why not flowers?"

"You've got a point there, ducks. Look, I know you're going to worry until you see otherwise, like you said, you can't help it, but I'm _not_ going back to her. There's nothing there for me now, if there ever was. Here, though? There's always been something _here - _with you - for me."

"Not always, remember the spell? I left you for over two years. I wasn't much better than she was." He hugged her, almost painfully tight.

"You _loved_ me, Red. Everything you did, _everything_, was out of love. Even if it some of it was love for Tara, there was still something _good_ there, something _real_. You didn't hurt me purposely or for your own pleasure. Love hurts sometimes, but it should _never_ hurt all the time. I haven't forgotten what it was like, being Buffy's little puppet, and I don't want that again."

"She loved you. When you came back with your soul? She loved you. She won't have stopped feeling that way just because you died and came back. If anything it will enhance her feelings for you. You're a hero, Spike, a fallen hero come back to us. She never knew about us, and she'll think you've come back for _her." _Goddess, it was so hard to spell this out for him, entirely too difficult to hand him the woman he always wanted on a silver platter.

"And? That's her problem, love. We'll tell her how it is, but she'll have to deal with any residual _feelings_. You're wrong, though, Red. She never loved _me_. She loved the _idea_ of me. The tortured soul, guilty, damaged, hurting - I was what she'd been, she could look at me with empathy instead of disgust. Still, she didn't love me. If she truly had, she would've been like you."

"Like me?" Why would Buffy ever want to be like _her_?

"Yeah, pet. You loved me _before_. You know that I'm still the same bloke with or without the soul. If suddenly the soul was gone, what would you do? No soul, no chip, nothing to contain the evil that lives inside…"

"You don't need either of those to keep yourself in check. Honestly, with the exception of the notable lack of attempts to end my life, you're not that much different now." It was true, he was still cocky, still arrogant, still everything that made him _Spike._

"Do you think she would see it that way?" Oh, no she wouldn't. She'd likely stake him - and all teary eyed nonetheless. She'd lament the fact that he had to be dusted, but she'd do it, no questions asked.

"See? Now you're getting it. I wouldn't, just so you know."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Try to kill you, or anyone who didn't deserve it."

"I know. It's not like you could anyway." She shrugged her shoulder and grinned, "You don't stand a chance against me now."

"Oh really?" He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a sexy smirk.

"Well… maybe there are certain areas where you have the upper-hand. Though, I don't think you could shag me to death."

"You just might be surprised, pet."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Once again, thanks to shaken-silence for the beta on this. She is fanfrickentastic and I heart her so much! (Yeah, I've been watching Scott Pilgrim waaayyy too much. Damn Knives Chau)**

She was tired. She was achy. She was irritable because she'd just ruined her brand-new, super-cute boots. Why did they always run for the sewers? The sewers in Cleveland weren't like the ones in California. They were darker, deeper, and nastier. Buffy's calf-length, black suede - totally trashed - boots were proof.

Maybe she should stop wearing her good clothes during the slayage…nah. Besides, she never really knew _when _she was going to end up chasing a Yargeth demon underground, did she? Slimy bastards. Oh, and aside from being greasy and rank? They ate puppies. Well, puppies and other small animals, but the damned thing had been chasing a puppy when she went after it.

"Come here, little guy…or girl. Sorry, you just look like a boy." The small dog was shivering under a park bench and inching just out of her reach.

"Come on, boy. It's ok, you're safe…" She was just about to grab him up when her phone rang and he headed for the hills, or the dark alley to his left.

"Hey! Didn't you learn your lesson? Dark alleys are not your friend." He was gone; with a sigh she gave up on the notion of taking him home and flipped her phone open.

"Hey, Faith. Get any action on your side of town?"

"Not much, we're about ready to call it a night. Tomorrow you can take the troop and I'll go it alone."

The thought filled her with not so much dread as an aching, gnawing sense of 'not-again.' She loved the girls, she really did, but she _hated_ patrolling with them. She was the lone-slayer now. Or, at least she'd like to be. The only people she cared to work with weren't there.

Shortly after they'd settled in London, Giles had hand picked the best of the best and sent them - under Buffy's care - to Cleveland. He'd said they were too good for the boring, almost demon-free streets of London. Apparently they needed to learn on an active Hellmouth.

So, here she was, in the great and depressing state of Ohio, once again foiling world-ending plots. The sad thing was, she didn't mind that so much as she did the fact that she didn't have _her_ team. There was no Willow to research and magic them out of tight situations. There was no Giles to be the voice of reason and keep her on track. There was no Dawnie to beg and plead to tag along. There was no Xander to bring the absolute best donuts and give them all a laugh when everything was too much. There no Spike to…well, be Spike. She tried not to think about Spike. She _tried_, but it didn't always work.

"Sure thing. Thanks for taking them tonight. How did they do?" They weren't really bad, just green and a little too gung-ho at times. She'd been like that once, so she could relate. Once all the slayers were called, she'd thought she might just retire. That lasted all of four weeks. There was more of a vacation. She dated a little, lived a little, relaxed a little, then realized that it just wasn't for her. So, she went back to Giles and was sent almost directly to Faith.

Faith. That was another oddity in her new Slayer/Watcher life. They actually got along, and not just in a the-world-is-ending-everyone-gather-round-and-play-nice way, but in a we're-not-enemies-and-might-even-admit-to-being-friends-if-enough-alcohol-is-involved kind of way. Yeah, this was indeed a strange new world.

"They did pretty good, we got in a couple vamps but that was it. Sheila is still a little off on her timing and Vicky _really_ needs to work on her repartee, but other than that, good. You coming to the house tonight?"

Sometimes they all got together at Faith and Robin's for movie or poker night, or if they were feeling really daring, a little of both and some mixed drinks. Tonight was not one of those nights. She wiggled her toes in her mushy boots and grimaced.

"I don't think so, send the girls home. I'm going to my apartment to hold a funeral for one of the best pairs of boots my feet have ever known." Luckily all her girls were old enough to share an apartment of their own, and she could actually trust them to behave. Most of the time. There was the incident with the exploding cake, but no one had been harmed, so she'd been able to overlook it.

"Oh no, not the black ones with the little star zippers?"

"Yep, unfortunately the stars have twinkled their last…twinkle."

"Damn, girl. You really need to get you a good pair of trainers. You can just throw 'em in the wash to get rid of the demon guts."

"Yeah, not so much demon guts that ruined these. Chased a big, green, ugly lump into the sewer."

"Oh, man. The sewers here are-"

"Horrendous, yeah, I know, but there was a puppy and -"

"Tell me you are _not_ adopting a dog. You barely have time to take care of yourself."

"He ran off, or you scared him away with that horrible ring tone you set on my phone."

"Hey, there is nothing wrong with that song; it's one of my favorites."

"Well, it may be, but I don't appreciate some guy singing about porn stars every time you call me. I'm changing it as soon as I figure out how."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm dropping the girls off now, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Tell them to stay away from cakes and fireworks. See ya tomorrow."

The walk back to her apartment was, thankfully, uneventful. She wasn't sure how well she'd be able to fight with the sludge that was trying to make a permanent home between her toes. She toed the boots off at the door and praised her forethought as she put a box of garbage bags in the coat closet beside the front door.

She wondered what the hell they were thinking when they installed white carpet in the entryway as she tossed her once pretty boots in a bag. She debated on leaving them on the porch until morning, but decided that the smell was just too much.

"Hey there, pretty thing." Just great. Every vamp within a hundred mile radius knew this town was teeming with slayers, but still…

"Hey, big guy, looking for some company?" All the way home she'd come across nothing more dangerous than a rat. Then, on her trip from her door to the trash bin she ran into a vamp three times her size. Normally she'd enjoy this, attack immediately and dance with him for a while before finishing the job. Just then, though, all she wanted was to climb in a hot bath and get the stench off.

He leered at her and sauntered the short distance between them. She gripped her trusty stake tightly in her pocket. His hand came up, probably to grab her hair, and she drove the stake in so fast he never knew it was coming. He was still grinning evilly as he exploded into dust at her feet.

Most vamps just didn't have flair. Spike? Angelus? They'd had style. They'd known how to play a game that was - while dangerous - at least interesting. She didn't particularly _want_ to face Angelus again, and Spike was much better at playing hero, but still…

She was thinking about Spike again. That's how it usually happened. Sometimes she went days without his name or face leaking into her thoughts; sometimes she thought about him for days on end. Sometimes she hated him for dying; sometimes she loved him for his sacrifice. One thing never changed, she _always_ missed him. She also never stopped blaming herself for his death. She hadn't known the specifics, but she'd known that whoever wore that amulet wasn't coming out alive. You might be able to avert an apocalypse, but there was _always_ a price to pay for it.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she threw the bag containing her boots in the dumpster. She went to the side of her apartment to rinse her feet at the outside faucet. The water was cold and left her feet numb, but at least they were sludge-free.

Once she was back inside, she went directly to the kitchen to make some tea. That was one thing that stuck with her after her short stay in England. She used to rib Giles endlessly about his liking for tea, but now she saw the appeal. She loved to soak in a hot, bubbly bath and sip honey-sweetened tea.

Putting the kettle on she hopped up on the counter to wait for it to whistle. She kept meaning to do something with this place. Everything was all beige and white, and it felt nothing like home. There were still boxes of things she hadn't yet unpacked. She was just too scared to do it. It just didn't seem right to hang her mother's pictures in an apartment the woman had never seen in a town she'd never visited.

She'd gone back after that fateful bus ride out of a developing crater. She'd been able to save exactly three of the pictures her mother had hung on the walls in the living room. They were a little ragged, but they were _hers_. She'd been trying to salvage anything she could of the woman who'd raised and loved her so wonderfully.

There were some things from her and Dawn's rooms as well, but she hadn't touched those either. She wasn't sure if she was more terrified that it would or wouldn't make the place feel like home. She didn't _want_ to be at home here, but the place and people who made up her home weren't an option for her anymore. Maybe it was time to move on. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd at least unpack the boxes, even if she couldn't bring herself to hang the pictures and find homes for the knickknacks.

The whistle of the kettle made her startle and she laughed at herself. Vampires and demons leaping suddenly from behind bushes didn't frighten her, but a boiling tea kettle almost made her jump out of her skin. Priceless.

Buffy dropped her tea bag into a cup of the hot water and made her way to the bathroom. She let the tea steep while she was running her bath and dumped plenty bubble bath into the water. She shed her clothes, grabbed the tea and sank slowly into her own kind of heaven.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but by the time she got out her hands and feet were pruny, her tea was long gone, and the water was almost cold. She smelled better though, so that was a plus.

As she was wrapping herself in the fluffiest bath robe known to man, her phone rang. No dancing porn stars this time. This phone call was extremely welcome. _Witchy Woman _echoing loudly in her almost empty living room promised a good long chat with her dearest girl-friend in the entire world.

"Wills! How are you? God, I miss you. Why haven't you called? Well, shit I guess I haven't called either. I've just been so busy. I guess you have too. I don't think we've talked since-"

"Since Kennedy and I broke up, and at least then you let me get a word in. Missed me?" Willow's voice was a little piece of that life that she'd loved so much.

"You have _no_ idea. So, how are things in South America? I never know what town you're in, you guys drift so much. Where are you now?" Willow and Kennedy had been set up in South America since before Buffy was sent to Cleveland. They had a base area they kept watch over and several small houses they moved between. There wasn't a Hellmouth there, but for some reason that part of the world attracted demons like crazy.

"Um, actually I'm little more North than South now."

"How far? The connection is awesome." Whenever they talked, there was usually a lot of static and many 'huhs?'.

"I'm in L.A. actually."

"L.A.? You're kidding. What are you doing there?"

"Well they had this huge thing a while back and Giles refused to send them help, so I-"

"What kind of huge thing? Giles said they were having some issues, but he didn't tell me it was anything horrible. Was it horrible? How's Angel? What's going on, Wills?" If Angel had asked for help and Giles wouldn't do it, the man had better hope that Angel was ok, otherwise…

"Angel's fine. Well, he was in a slump for a bit, but I think he's coming around. I've been staying here to help get him up and going again, and well…for other reasons."

"What other reasons? That sounded kinda shady, Willow. Aw, did you meet someone?"

"Um…"

"You did! You found a hot chick. Is she sweet? Does she have nice legs? And I'm so going to stop right there before I start asking about butts and boobs. So, tell me about her."

"Buffy, I didn't meet anyone." Willow still sounded a little off, but Buffy could tell when the other girl was lying, and she wasn't.

"Oh, then why are you still there? He's hurt, isn't he? Willow, please tell me he isn't dying."

"Buffy, Angel is fine, better than he has been in weeks even. Besides, he's a vampire, they don't die slowly. He wasn't hurt that bad, he just went broody for a while. The reason I called was to let you know we're planning a Scooby vacation." Oh, wow. Was Willow able to read minds now, or what?

"Really? Who all is coming?"

"I talked with Giles yesterday, so I know he's coming. He's supposed to round up Dawn and Xander. I got the wonderful duty of calling you." Buffy felt her eyes welling up, but didn't bother with wiping the tears or trying to blink them back.

"We're all going to be together again?" Her voice cracked a little.

"Yeah, Buff, for a while anyway. Everyone is coming in a week, I'm not sure how long you all are staying, but it's going to be all of us."

"Wow, Wills. You do not know how bad I need this right now. I miss you all so _much_. The slaying just isn't the same without you and Xander." She was so happy her heart could just burst. She pushed the thought away as quickly as she could; she was back on a Hellmouth after all.

"I miss you too, and I'm sure Xander misses us both. So, one week! Or, six days to be exact. Giles is handling the tickets, and I'm sure he'll call you with the details. I just wanted to give you the news myself."

"How did you do it? I can't believe you talked Giles into taking a vacation. I can't believe you talked him into letting us all do it at once. Wait, this is a _really_ vacation, right? Nothing world-endy?" Not that she would complain, she'd be just as happy to avert an apocalypse with them. Anything to get them all together would be welcome.

"Nope, nothing world-endy, just all of us together again, the _whole _gang." Buffy didn't notice the emphasis Willow put that word, instead she starting planning movie nights, manicures, pedicures, and facials. She fell asleep to the memory of her and Xander braiding Willow's hair in front of a Bollywood movie.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N An extra special thank you to shakensilence! She gets all my virtual love for her wonderful suggestions and fantabulous beta skillz. She had a great suggestion for this chapter that didn't make it into the finished product simply because I'm working hard on the next chapter and got swept up in that. Sorry, love! This has been finished and beta'd for a while, but I just got around to actually making the corrections and getting it to you. Hope you enjoy! Just to let you know, I was rereading the prequel and almost gagged at some of the mistakes, so I may soon make some slight alterations to that, though the basic plot will not be affected!**

Africa was hot. No, not just _hot_, it was absolutely sweltering. The rock Xander was sitting on seemed to have absorbed the rays of the sun; his ass was on fire. He was tired, though, so it would do. He did have the overhang from the small hut to shade him now that the sun was sinking slowly on the opposite side.

The cries from inside the small hut were turning from occasional shouts to ringing screams of agony and he was beginning to get worried. He'd never been present for the birth of a child before. Strange that he'd seen far too people many die, but never had the joy of witnessing (or hearing, as the case may be) one being born.

The mother was singing in a language he didn't understand, but that was nothing new. What was odd about it was the fact that she was screaming the song at the top of her lungs and it still sounded beautiful. Even if her song was pretty, she was still obviously in pain. The father, a man named Latif, was pacing by the door, seemingly unfazed by the heat but not by the sounds coming from inside.

Xander should have been halfway to England by then, but he couldn't let the man miss the birth of his child. Latif had offered to take him anyway, but Xander had insisted they stay. He was starting to think that hadn't been the best idea. Not only was he hot and worried, but he was _tired_.

He'd spent the last two weeks looking for a slayer that had been under his nose the entire time. According to a few witches that Giles had employed for the purpose of tracking the young girls, she was in a small village outside of Lesotho. He'd looked high and low for the usual tell-tale signs that a slayer was present in the town, but found nothing for twelve long days.

To say he'd been surprised to find out the young son of the family housing him was actually a girl would be an understatement. It might even be the understatement of the millennia. His discovery was a complete accident and he'd be embarrassed to admit that he might never have found her if he hadn't walked in on her wrapping certain 'bits' tightly to avoid giving herself away.

It turned out that the family had considered her sudden great strength a gift from their God. They'd recently been down on their luck when her father had been seriously injured and unable to work. When she'd woken one morning with the strength of ten men, they'd hatched a plan to give her a new identity. Using what little savings they had, her whole family had moved across the country and Adanna became Abdalla. With the mining industry on the rise in that part of the country, Adanna had no difficulty bringing her family great gain.

He'd offered her the option of coming with him, after explaining what she was and her calling, but she'd declined. There was always a choice for the girls, and he let her make her decision just like he had the rest of them. He'd known she was a lost cause after hearing her story, but he'd still hoped. She had taken the next three days to think about his proposition, but in the end, she'd stayed. He'd given her the information she'd need to contact him should she change her mind, then he'd wished her luck and left her to live the life she'd chosen.

That had been his only stipulation when Giles had requested that he help find the slayers in Africa. He'd always hated that Buffy never had a choice; he wanted to give his girls the chance to choose their paths. There was no reason to force them to go with him, and he never did. So far, he'd tracked and located eleven girls; out of those, eight had gone to England, one had died, and two had chosen to remain with their families.

The one that had passed away was already very ill when he'd found her. He'd been preparing to send her to Giles when her body had finally given out. He still wasn't sure what had plagued the poor girl and her death had been difficult for him. He'd taken a short breather after that. Unsure of his mission, he'd dropped under Giles' radar (no small feat) for a week. It had taken a lot of alcohol induced thinking and a very long pep-talk from Willow to get him going again.

God how he missed Willow. Sure, he loved Buffy and Dawn; he might even admit to loving Giles, but Willow was his rock. She was his best friend and most trusted confidant. There were days that he didn't feel like he could last another second without hugging her. Those days always passed; he was always able to get himself up and going, but he never stopped missing her. He would even willingly revert to donut boy if it meant being with her everyday. Hell, it wasn't like he actually enjoyed his current job anyway. It was too damned hot to be enjoyable.

He suddenly realized two things; it was dark, and it was quiet. Upon finding himself alone, he abandoned his rock and propped himself on the wall beside the door. He could faintly hear the crying of a baby coming from inside and breathed a sigh of relief that everything seemed to be ok. He figured it was too late to start his journey home - or to England which wasn't _really_ home, but would do in a pinch - and had just decided to pitch his rickety tent for the night when Latif appeared in the doorway.

The man was grinning from ear to ear and wasted no time pulling Xander into a decidedly unmanly hug. Xander shrugged; who could worry with being manly when you'd just become a father? Latif thanked him - several times in the span of a few minutes - for allowing him to be present for the birth of his son. Then, the man insisted that Xander be flown immediately to Mejametalana AB which was a small airport suitable only for light aircraft in the town of Maseru. From there, he'd take a cab to Moshoeshoe I International Airport where he'd be able to book a flight to England - he didn't want to even _think_ about the layovers he'd have to suffer.

Xander hated to tear the man away from his wife and child so soon, but Latif would not take no for an answer. Besides, Xander really was ready to be home. His first flight was short and bumpy, but he had higher hopes for the next one. He didn't care _what_ Giles thought, he was flying first class.

He was exhausted when his last flight landed at Heathrow. Sleeping on a plane was not - in any way - refreshing. He felt even worse for having spent hours with his head tilted awkwardly to one side than he would have had he not slept at all. He hadn't flown first class. He always told himself he was going to, but in the end he always opted to save the cash. He didn't really need to, but he was finding that old habits really did die hard.

He'd called Andrew during his last layover to see if someone would be able to pick him up, or if he'd need to call a cab. Andrew had assured him that someone would be waiting; he wasn't disappointed. As he heaved his duffle bag over his shoulder, he raised his head to meet crystal clear blue eyes. Upon seeing him, a tear ran slowly down her cheek and her face lit with a joyous smile.

There stood, directly in front him, Dawn Summers. She was much taller than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair had grown at least half a foot, and it was hanging in loose waves that framed her face and cascaded down her back. The jeans she was wearing made him wish he was standing behind her, and he mentally slapped himself for the thought. Her low-cut top didn't help pull his brain out of the gutter. He closed his eye briefly and reminded himself _who_ he was ogling.

She lifted up the white sign she was holding and he laughed at the name scrawled - in her hand - in black marker. _Sergeant Fury._ Not questioning Andrew's motivation for not telling him who would be waiting, he dropped his bag and opened his arms to catch the thin body hurtling toward him.

"Xander!" His sleepiness faded away as lifted her into the air and laughed uncontrollably when she wrapped legs longer than he remembered around his waist.

"God I missed you, Bit." It was name that caused them both pain, but she loved to hear it as much as he loved to say it. It was their bittersweet tribute to a man he'd thought he hated and she'd thought she loved. The first time he'd called her that, it had been a mistake. He'd been consoling her over Spike's demise - something he'd had to continue doing long after everyone thought she was over it - and it had just slipped out.

When he saw how it calmed her, he started using it more often. It was no longer just Spike's pet name for her; it had become his as well. They kept it between the two of them as much as they could. He'd slipped and said it in front of Buffy once and he'd thought she'd never stop crying. So, it was their little secret.

Her legs dropped back to the ground and her arms replaced them around his midsection, "Oh, I've missed hearing that."

She buried her face in his shirt and he nuzzled his into her hair. Inhaling deeply, he let the faint sweet pea scent relax him. Yeah, he missed Willow, but it had been almost as long since he'd seen Dawn.

"What are you doing here, Dawnie? Not that I'm not thrilled," he squeezed tightly, "this is me being thrilled, but you're supposed to be in Rome."

She moved back a little in his arms and her hands wandered to his front, where they stroked firmly several times.

"Whoa, Xan. Have you been working out? I'm noticing a definite lack of pudge here."

"I haven't been pudgy for a while. Now, answer me. Why aren't you in Rome?" Her fingers didn't stop prodding, and he tried to ignore the fact that he was enjoying it in a very unfriendly way.

"I'll fill you in on the way to see Giles." The hem of his shirt started to rise and he stepped back before she could get it all the way up. It wasn't just his shirt that was concerning him, something _else_ was trying to come up as well. It felt weird and wrong; this was _Dawn_. She was practically his sister.

Her laughter made him blush as he bent to lift his bag again.

"It's not like I've never seen your stomach, Xander. I just wanted to know if it's really as trim as it feels." The glint in her eye hinted that she might be aware of his internal struggle.

"No seeing or feeling. C'mere." Lifting the arm that wasn't occupied, he motioned for her to lean into his side.

Once his arm was around her shoulders, he let her lead him in the direction of Giles' car. Maybe he should have, but he didn't repeat his new rule when one of her hands fisted in the back of his shirt and the other rested lightly on his abdomen. A strand of hair that had escaped the weight of his arm tickled his hand and he twirled it gently around a finger.

"Remember when you used to do that almost every night?"

"What's that?"

"Play with my hair. You used to stay with me when mom was working and Buffy was slaying, and you'd let me lay my head in your lap while we watched a movie. You always used to fiddle with my hair."

It hadn't really happened, but he didn't mention that. She'd finally accepted her personhood and decided to embrace her memories as real, and he saw no reason to change that. Besides, he would have done just what they both remembered. He'd always loved long hair. Curly or straight, blonde or brunette, that didn't matter; he loved it _long_. Of course, at the time of the fabricated snuggling, he hadn't been having the kind of thoughts that Buffy would stake him for - even if he _was_ human.

His bag was tossed into the trunk - or boot as it was called here - and he slid into the driver's seat only to have her inform him that she would be driving.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm totally serious. You're tired and I have a perfectly good license that I don't get to enjoy very often. So, I'll drive."

Not wanting to argue against her very good point, he scooted to the other side and let her have the wheel. When they were away from the airport and on the way to council headquarters, he probed for information again.

"So, why are you here? Like I said, I'm glad that you are… you're most certainly a sight for sore eyes, but-"

"A sight for sore eyes, huh?" He didn't like the sultry quality of her voice - or maybe he did - but he _shouldn't_ like it. So, he did what he did best and lightened the mood with a little humor.

"Well, in my case I guess I should singularize the word." He grinned and pointed to his patch.

Shaking her head, she giggled a little before answering him, "Giles called me to let me know we'd all be going to L.A. next week, so here I am. I guess I could have stayed in Rome and flew out from there, but he said you'd be here and I thought the trip would be more enjoyable with the two of you. Plus, I get to spend some time with _you. _It's been a long time since we just chilled and I thought a few movie marathons might be just the thing."

Not wanting to dwell on the possibility of being alone with Dawn for any length of time, he focused on the first part of her short speech.

"L.A.?"

"Yeah, you might have known sooner if you hadn't dallied in Africa so long."

"Hey, there was a life being brought into the world, that can't be put on hold for anybody. I didn't want the poor guy to miss it. He was good to me while I was there, flying me here, there, and everywhere at the drop of a hat. He needed to be there for his wife." Her smile told him she understood.

"I know, Xan. I'm only teasing you."

"So, why are we going across the pond?" His British accent left a lot to be desired, and she grinned at his horrible Giles impression.

"Nothing to be concerned about. Apparently Willow is there and she and Giles have decided we need a vacation. Buffy is going too."

He heard the word 'vacation' and the name 'Buffy', but they were eclipsed in his mind by Willow's face.

"Willow?" If he'd been anywhere near a hellmouth when he was thinking about her earlier, he might have thought he'd somehow accidentally arranged the whole thing.

"Yes, Xander. Buffy and Giles too. I'm not sure how long we're staying, but everyone will be there. Isn't it great?" The excitement was pouring off her, but it didn't compare to what was thrumming in his veins. He couldn't wait to see Buffy again, and Dawn was a very pleasant surprise (something he didn't want to think on too hard), but Willow would be just what he needed.

"Better than great, it's fanfuckingtastic."

"Yeah. So, I'm taking you to Giles so that you can give him a quick verbal report on everything you've already reported to him in writing." She rolled her eyes. "After that, we're off to the council flat he keeps for us when we visit."

"Wait, we? As in, you and I - just the two of us?"

"Well, duh. Where else would we stay?"

Instead of trying to come up with a better option, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be in Dawn's presence day and night for several days. It would be fun, no doubt. They'd be able to catch up, and he loved spending time with her. What bothered him was the way she was looking at him and the way his heart seized when she did.

They hadn't even been apart for a year, but she'd somehow grown from a child into a woman. His body seemed to be taking that into consideration and completely ignoring the weakening protests of his brain. As he was contemplating the changes in her demeanor and body, she snorted at a stupid joke on the radio, and suddenly she was just Dawnie again. Maybe the African heat had fried his brain, or maybe it had just been too long since he'd gotten laid. Either way, he was sure they'd be just fine.


End file.
